Jobber

Jack Before Calpera:

Jack ran like his life depended on it – and, for all intents and purposes, he supposed it did. He held a vial of medicine in his hands and heard the blaring sound of sirens off in the distance. The security guards were after him, intent in their chase. All he could do was play the hand he was dealt. The oldest of the Sabian brothers hopped forward, while at the same time, tossing the medicine over the bunker and onto Mikey’s bed.

Mikey looked at him with big, tired eyes – still bedridden, however.

Like with anything in the Myro Corporation, specifically, ‘specialty’ items were available to its employees – per the law’s enforced by the C.D.’s. However, like every specialty item Myro Corporation provided, it cost money and had to be purchased at the commissary. The only hangup with that was the fact wages were garnished to pay the outlandish, bottomless debt that Myro stacked on them.

Mikey still appeared half asleep, his body doing its best to catch up with his overpowered brain and what it already knew. Jack could see the light click on behind Mikey’s gaze right before he sprung, with an impressive bounce, from the bed. Mickey fought to his feet weakly, “Jack, what have you done?”

Jack shook his head, pressed his paw to his lips and shushed his sick brother. Shortly after, the security guards arrived, throwing him unceremoniously to the ground.

“You have no idea the mess of trouble you are in,” one member of the security team said.

And he was right, Jack really hadn’t had an idea.

2.

Mama Sharko had already explained it to him once before, but Jack still wasn’t certain whether he completely understood it or not.

On Planet Calpera, things were very different than they were anyplace else. On Calpera, things could be re-animated, so to speak. It was like a saved videogame or a checkpoint system. Before Jack entered the battlegrounds, he hit a checkpoint or saved his game, and when Mack “The Mangler” Krul lived up to his name and did, in fact, mangle him, he was loaded back to his previous save file.

It was peculiar, it was scary, and it was like something out of a horror story, and … and … it was kind of cool too though, wasn’t it?

“I will tell you what, you turned some heads in your match, rabbit.” Mama Sharko said.

“It’s Jack,” the rabbit corrected, for what felt like the fifteenth time so far. “And what do you mean I turned heads? I was barely able to lay a hand on him, and I lost.”

“Don’t be modest, you ended up getting a few licks in.” Mama Sharko said. “You were never meant to win. The endgame was always Mack Krul squashing you, one way or the other. But you put on a show beforehand. That’s what matters. You endeared yourself to the crowd. You made them remember you, and if you hadn’t done that, what reason would we have had to bring you back at the terminal?”

Jack stared at her with a dumbfounded expression, “There was a chance you weren’t going to bring me back?”

Mama Sharko laughed. “No, no, of course not,” she replied. “The rules are rules. No one dies on Calpera. Whether you outlive your usefulness in Calpera and are sent to Duggins, now, on the other hand.” Sharko’s voice trailed off, leaving Jack to fill in the blanks.

Truth be told, the threat of Duggins may have been a fate worse than death. That was where Jack had been meant to be sent after stealing the medicine from commissary. Thankfully, Mama Sharko had been there, and, more importantly, she had been there to see him knock down a handful of security guards on the way out. “You have spunk, kid,” Jack could remember her saying as the security guards stomped on him.

“Believe it or not, your next match will be even better than the last?” Mama Sharko explained.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. Even though he knew it was his imagination, he still felt like he could feel an ache from The Mangler’s mace earlier on.

“I don’t know how we will top that,” Jack said in jest.

“You will have an easier opponent. The head honchos see money in you, so they want to see you rack up some victories. That way, you will be seen as something more than a no-good jobber.”

“Jobber?” Jack asked, but never received an answer.

Jack was sent off into the cafeteria. He bowed his head at some of the nearby fighters as he entered. He was the ‘new kid,’ so to speak, which meant he still hadn’t made any friends yet. Things weren’t so bad in the Trials of Calpera, other than the always present fear of being sent to a ruthless slave trader in Duggins, and, of course, the fact you might have to experience a faux death should you lose a match. Other than that, it was pleasant. Good, even.

Participants received their own small room to live in, along with halfway decent meals. Although you were tethered to the confines of the Colosseum, there was a gymnasium to train in, a library for reading (if you were like Mikey and went for that sort of thing) and other places Jack was still learning about.

Eddie ‘No Thumbs’ (with a fighting record that read “0-3-0”) approached him. “Hey there, buddy! Looks like you and I are on the next card. Squarin’ off! Sounds like it will be lots of fun.”

Eddie ‘No Thumbs’ was a monkey with a loud mouth. As far as Jack could tell, he was harmless, but some of the other roster members had taken to using him as a punching bag whenever he became too much to deal with. The name ‘No Thumbs’ came from, and this was true, the fact that he had no thumbs. It was stupid, very stupid, but it was a gimmick he had in the arena. Basically, he would throw up both his hands and do the thumbs up gesture with no thumbs and the crowd would buy into it like it was the return of God himself.

As important as wins and losses were, Mama Sharko had told Jack that having a long tenure in The Trials of Calpera was all about endearing yourself to the crowd. Eddie ‘No Thumbs’ was both comedic and sympathetic, that was his character and that was what kept him on the roster in spite of three straight losses.

“I tell you what, it is all about the pizza crust. This is what you do – stick it in your gums like you’re having yourself a tin of chewing tobacco,” Eddie explained, having evidently moved on from discussing their upcoming match, to … pizza crust. He ripped the crust from off the pizza on his plate and shoved it to the inside of his cheek. “You do this, and I tell you what, you never have to brush your teeth again. This stuff, how it’s made, removes plaque! Like eatin’ an apple.”

It just so happened that Eddie ‘No Thumbs’ was also a little bit on the peculiar side.

“That’s, uh, yeah, that’s, uh, great,” Jack said. “And you’re right, it should be a fun time at the arena. I look forward to competing with you.”

Mama Sharko tugged Jack’s arm and brought him away from the monkey and his pizza crust toothbrush. “You shouldn’t bother trying to befriend your competition, rabbit.”

“It’s Jack, and, why not? That ‘Mangler’ fellow brought me one of the nicest gift bags, seems like a real sweetheart.”

“Oh, he is. This whole coliseum is one great big arena full of sweethearts. That’s by design.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Tell me, who are you more likely to underestimate, a fighter with three losses against his streak and everything in the world to prove, or a guy who thinks his pizza crust has superpowers?”

“So, what you are trying to say is that Mister No Thumbs is playing the long con with me?”

“Oh no, not at all, Eddie is as crazy as they come and then some. But you don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that when you two face off with each other, there are no friends, there are only competitors. You had an alright showing against The Mangler, but you need to start thinking about how you are going to improve your record and ascend the ranks here in Calpera.”

“Do you really think I have a shot at all of ‘ascending the ranks,’ I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am no Mangler, Sharko.”

“Maybe not. But I saw what you did to those guards at Myro. You may not be The Mangler, but you aren’t a defenseless little bunny rabbit either. You know how to fight. You have the skill to do it. But you have to stop playing nice and start being mean. The only way out of here is through the top, Jack.”

Jack didn’t say a word as Mama Sharko left him. For right now, she seemed to have his best interest in mind. Maybe, even that, was her playing him, however. She donned a black hood, like some sort of Grim Reaper, moving around the coliseum without detainment. Who was she? A friend? Jack wasn’t convinced he could have friends in such a place. For now, what she said made sense. Certainly, adding a win to his record couldn’t be a bad thing.

3.

Jack steeled his nerves as he entered the coliseum. As nervous as he still felt, this was a world’s difference from his first appearance in the Trials. Before, he had been terrified and afraid, and that kept him from experiencing the event in all its grandiose splendor.

He stepped out and felt the sand beneath his boots. The sky overhead was a blend of red and purple, occasionally (actually, let’s call it “often”) interrupted by advertisements that were projected in the clouds – “Buy Symor Moscut’s new Crocher Bars, they’re the stuff dreams are made of!” and “Buy new hyper speed fuel, escape the C.D.’s before they even think to pull you over!” were among them.

For Jack, both ads represented a perfect microcosm of The Trials of Calpera, and more particularly, the way its audience contrasted. As barbaric as the concept may have seemed on paper, it brought in a range of viewers from across the galaxy. Of that audience, you found people from every part of the spectrum, whether it was lowly criminals who wanted to see a person’s head bashed in and gamble, or parents and their children looking for a fun night out as a family.

The crowd, seated all around Jack, made him feel small. What made him feel bigger, however, were the screens in front and behind him that projected a closeup of his face, not to even mention the angles from the cameras flying around him on drones.

Jack threw out a cocky smile as he moved forward, watching himself on the screen like it was a mirror. He listened to the crowd, he zeroed in and played to them accordingly.

In the Trials, you had animals that were beloved and animals that drew the ire of the crowd, the ones who had heat and ones who were beloved. It was a business – customers showed up to see the ones they hated lose in a match and the ones they loved win. As a bad guy, by not losing, you drove ticket sales for the next event with lingering hopes their downfall may happen then. For a good guy, you become a glorified superhero – someone for the children to root for, someone people would wear on a shirt. By being successful, a person could procure sponsorship deals and other perks, and more importantly, buy their freedom.

Jack waved at the crowd again, waiting for the go signal—as a silly gesture, he even struck a few poses. The idea of being a hero sounded good to him.

On the other end, ‘No Thumbs’ Todd played to the crowd as well, offering his regular gestures and toothy smile (pearly whites, thanks to all the pizza crust!). It didn’t matter he had so many losses attached to his name, the crowd loved him.

“Rabies and germs, for your opening contest today, on a three loss losing streak, you have the impenetrable, undeniable ‘No Thumbs’ Todd!” The crowd gave an enthusiastic cheer, some of them even showing off the gloves they purchased to mimic thumbless fists. As the peak of ‘No Thumbs’ ovation faded, the announcer started again. “His opponent, you last saw quite literally mangled by “The Mangler” Mack Krul, put your hands together for Jack “Rabbit” Smith!”

Way to make the crowd excited to see us, Jack thought. In truth, the announcer had done neither of them any favors with that introduction. Jack shook the announcer from his mind and took a breath, instead, thinking about how to contend with Mama Sharko’s warning regarding fan disinterest leading to competitor’s being cut. Maybe that was the point of the announcer’s lack of enthusiasm. By design, they weren’t meant to be seen as a big deal. They were the pre-show before the marquee event. That, in itself, might have made it a low-pressure affair, but, instead, it made it feel like an extremely dangerous one.

Jack stepped forward, the same way he had done prior with Mack “The Mangler” Krul. This time, it would be different. There was already a different feeling in the air as he stared across at ‘No Thumbs’ Todd, a character who did his best serious expression, but couldn’t keep himself from looking at least a little more on the goofy side.

“Good luck, Thumbs,” Jack said, watching as the turntable raised, unveiling the assortment of weapons for them to choose from.

Jack looked at each weapon. He nodded at some, bookmarking them in his mind as potential contenders, and shook his head at others. He absolutely, most certainly, wouldn’t be using the nunchucks. Unfortunately, he found himself unable to follow through with any of them, instead, finding himself on the receiving end of a brash sneak attack from ‘No Thumbs’ Todd.

As best he could, Jack’s reflexes reacted, trying to get him out of dodge. They did their best, which was enough to escape having a chunk of his head dangling off his body like the strand of a cheese stick, but wasn’t enough to save himself entirely. In shock, Jack looked down as about half of his left ear tumbled through the air and fell to the sand.

The “ooh’s” from the crowd adequately represented Jack’s reaction. His mind emptied, going completely blank, deafening silence, in fact. It felt like a long period of time, but, by the time Jack pried his eyes away, the crowd’s reaction had only just now ceased. He looked up at “No Thumbs” Todd, who waved at the crowd and laughed: “Friends, Calpera, countrymen, lend me your ear!”

“What have you done!?” Jack yelled, feeling deep, dark blotches of blood damping his fur.

“All is fair,” Todd replied, running toward Jack with his sword in hand.

Jack stared back at him, still taken aghast by the dirty tactic, but then reacted: Jack moved out of the way, leaving Todd to strike at nothing but the air. Quickly, Jack looked over the weapons, grabbing the first he could—an ax. The weapon was heavy in his hands and wouldn’t normally have been Jack’s weapons of choice. Desperate times, and such … Jack readied himself, on-guard against the aggressive Todd.

Todd went back toward him, bringing his sword down again. Jack blocked it, using the handle of his weapon as a defense. It was a risky maneuver, Jack was mesmerized by the way Todd’s blade splintered into the wooden handle. Had he been a stronger foe, it would have been no problem for him to break it in two pieces and split his head.

As Todd tried to pull his weapon free, he found his luck running dry. Despite all the tugging and prying, he failed to break the sharp edge free. Jack saw his opportunity and took it. Moving with his natural speed, he let go of the ax and reached down to retrieve a knife from the weapons turntable. Before Todd could make sense of it, Jack leaped forward, stabbing down as hard as he could and managing to puncture a small wound in Todd’s rib-cage. Todd dropped his weaponry, desperately pawing at his injured belly, blood sneaking through the creases of his fingers.

Jack smiled at him, “all’s fair, Todd.

Jack could hear the crowd cheering around him, and, in that moment, could feel a strong rush of adrenaline course through him. In this moment, for the first time in the Trials of Calpera, Jack was enjoying himself.

Todd’s expression no longer looked deceptive or playful, he looked outright mad. Todd leaned down, reaching for his sword again.

I can’t allow that to happen, Jack thought to himself, immediately running toward Todd with ill intentions. As he ran, Jack retrieved a spear from the turntable and rushed forward. As he charged toward Todd with intentions of a killing blow, it was now Todd’s chance to be on the defensive. Todd reached to the ground and threw a handful of sand Jack’s way, temporarily blinding him.

Jack flailed forward, accidentally stabbing his spear into the ground. As he rubbed at his eyes, desperately trying to remove the grains, he heard Todd barreling toward him. With his back turned, Jack did the only thing he could, he dove aimlessly in a random direction, hoping it’d be a direction Todd wasn’t swinging his sword. Luckily for him, it was.

Todd swung his sword in a sideways motion, successfully breaking Jack’s spear in half, however. Better than my head, Jack though, as he spun on heel. Using the skills honed in years of P.E. dodgeball—a rare thank you he gave his education at Ex’Fi—he caught the head of the spear in midair before it could fall uselessly to the ground. Then, in the same motion, he plunged the sharp end right into the same wound as before in Todd’s blood-soaked belly.

Jack dropped to a seated position, staring up at Todd as the life fled his body.

Todd fell landing right on top of Jack, who was too fatigued to move out of the way. Jack could feel the warmth of Todd’s blood as it stained his shirt. Slowly, mustering what little energy he had left, Jack pushed him away, slightly fearful he may have been feigning his demise for a last-ditch effort at a sneak attack, when he heard the bell ring, calling for the end of the match, he lowered his guard.

“Rabies and germs, your winner of this contest, obtaining his first victory in the Trials of Calpera, it’s the redeemable Jack “Rabbit” Smith!” The announcer yelled loudly.

Jack slowly climbed up to a standing position, fueled at once by the cheering crowd around him. It wasn’t a full house yet, Jack could see plenty of empty seats in the stands. People were still finding their seats and, for many, the real show hadn’t started yet. That said, it didn’t make a difference to him. For him, there might as well have been an audience in the millions for how much it meant. He waved, allowing himself to soak in the reaction once again.

This I can get used to, Jack thought.